


Warm Colors, Cool Colors

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Love, M/M, Old Married Couple, Old Married Spirk Challenge, but don't worry they're okay <3, good things and bad things happen, old married spirk, oms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 03:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: Jim and Spock, Spock and Jim – reverse shot through time...Spock's dreams are always a kaleidoscope of memories these days.This is a fanfiction about trust, love, and being together until the very end.Written for the Old Married Spirk Challenge 2017.





	1. Prologue: The things love can drive a man to

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this so much, I'm actually kind of nervous now that I have to share it. I really poured my heart into this story, and writing it was an adventure for me.  
> I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> [Fanmix to go with the fanfiction: click here (x)](https://8tracks.com/sadchicken/warm-colors-cool-colors)

Dawn. There’s a slight tremor going through the world. Spock feels it as he strolls along the whispering water. Pebbles sigh beneath his feet as he keeps walking, step by step, breathing in… and then breathing out.

San Francisco Bay looks like an old friend. The bridge looms ahead, casting dancing shadows on the river. Spock’s immaculate white robes flow around his ankles. His hands are sagging at his sides, but his chin remains upright as he stars at the sky. A silken thread of sunlight ripples through the twilight. Sunrise. Spock does not stop to watch. His feet carry him home, slowly. He is already halfway there. He closes his eyes and lets his body take him to the house.

His body — it remembers. It remembers too much.

It only takes him thirteen point five minutes to get there. The house remains lifeless; unchanged. Spock watches it quietly: the dark, empty windows, the abandoned plants. A long time ago, he left it all and ran. He still does not understand why. He walks up to the front door and places his palm over it to confirm his identity. The computer chirps and lets him in.

It is dusty inside. Nothing but shadows and cobwebs. And ghosts.

Spock’s heavy footsteps echo as he crosses the living room, enters the kitchen, walks up the stairs. He closes his eyes once more, shielding himself from the flickers of a past life that assault his memory. Life — his life, _their_ life.

The bedroom is cold. The blinds are wide open, as if forgotten. Golden sunlight trickles through the window and pools on the floor. The bed is unmade.

Spock chokes on the silence, on the emptiness. He stumbles into the room. Treacherous, his mind fills with the softest of music. And a heartbeat. Not his own.

He is so very old. And yet he remembers everything with a clarity that unsettles him; every scent, every touch, every lingering stare. Every morning, every kindness, every word whispered against blushing skin. Every secret smile.

They had been together for a lifetime; but not his. No, not his — his continues on, cruelly.

The bed is now only a few centimeters away, but Spock’s legs suddenly feel useless. A new wave of memories threatens to send him reeling back down the stairs, but he doesn’t move. He holds on to the nearby wall, then pushes himself off it. One step, another… and his left foot collides with something. A clattering noise rattles the silence. Spock looks down, and there, at his feet…

Jim is smiling up at him. The holographic image moves with dreamlike slowness, but Jim’s movements are painfully familiar. One hand slipping into his hair, the other sliding around Spock’s waist. His eyebrows curving upwards. The boyish gleam in his hazel eyes when he looks at Spock. The delicate tilt of his head as his grin grows wider.

They both look young —although Spock knows that they were well over fifty when the picture was taken. How old, how battered is he now, to see himself then and think of youth?

Youth was the _Enterprise_. Youth was the five year mission.

Spock groans as he leans in and reaches for the holographic image. His knees throb in protest, but he grabs it, hauling it up by the carved wood framing it. Once it is in his hands, he slumps onto the bed.

His hands are shaking. He cannot take his eyes off the image. Every other memory suddenly pales in comparison to this, this picture, here in their bedroom, waiting for Spock, like _he_ had once waited. _Jim_.

And something breaks inside him again. And again. Like every single day since _he_ left. Spock is holding on to the wooden frame so hard that his fingertips turn white. He realizes he is panting, his heavy breathing tainting the perfect stillness of the bedroom. 

Forbidding, ever so punishing, his memory brings back words from another time, and his heart clenches – he _feels_ it – as he repeats them over and over in his mind. _The things love can drive a man to — the ecstasies, the miseries, the broken rules, the desperate chances, the glorious failures and the glorious victories_.

He reaches out through the bond, blindly, desperately, thrashing mindlessly. Their bond, their mental and spiritual bond, a bridge between them… His entire being recoils at what awaits him at the other splintered end of that bridge: thick grey fog, spreading out endlessly. He has long since stopped believing the mirages he sometimes saw there.

There is nothing. Where there used to be joy and life and love, there is now nothing. 

Spock gently slides his fingers over the holographic image, stopping on Jim’s face, Jim’s smile, Jim’s eyes. He knew visiting their old house would break him, and yet he willingly let it happen. For Jim, he would break a thousand times. He would break every day. For the memories, for the laughter and the love and the happiness.

On the picture, Jim smiles over and over again.

Spock carefully lays it down on the bed and climbs higher up, placing his head on one of the pillows. That breaks him as well, but he swallows the pain. And from around his neck, he removes a pendant… Flicking his thumb once, he opens it with familiar ease. And Jim’s voice fills the room with off-key singing.

“ _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you —_ ”

Spock squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look at the holographic image of his husband, not here, not now. He lets the pendant – a birthday present from Jim – fall onto the mattress. He is almost surprised at his own weakness. He usually has no problem with this, but…

“ _I suppose I’d always imagined us… outgrowing Starfleet together_ ,” Jim’s voice goes on.

Here in their old house, Spock can’t bear it. He only half-listens to his bondmate’s message — he knows it by heart, he has memorized every bit of it, he could even recite it. But the combined hurt and comfort that Jim’s voice brings is enough to make Spock’s eyes water.

“ _Watching life swing us into our Emeritus years…_ ”

Tears? Now? Spock did not understand.

“ _I look around at the new cadets now and can’t help thinking… has it really been so long? Wasn’t it only yesterday we stepped onto the Enterprise as boys?_ ”

Why now? After all this time…

“ _I know what you’d say — ‘It’s their turn now, Jim…’ And of course you’re right… but it got me thinking…”_

Surely enough, a single tear escaped Spock’s fluttering eyelashes.

“ _Who’s to say we can’t go one more round?_ ”

He cannot remember the last time he cried. Has he ever?

“ _You once said being a starship captain was my first, best destiny… if that’s true, then yours is to be by my side_.”

He is too old to hold back tears. Too old to pretend. So he cries in silence, listening as Jim’s voice fills him with unspeakable grief and unthinkable joy.

“ _If there’s any true logic to the universe… we’ll end up on that bridge again someday._ ”

Grief, joy, longing, love…  Jim did a great many things for Spock over the years, but the most important gift he had ever given him...

“ _Admit it, Spock. For people like us, the journey itself… is home_.”

Jim made Spock _feel_. That truly was the greatest gift of all.

“ _I love you, happy birthday_.”

Spock falls asleep. And when he dreams, he is with Jim again…


	2. Warm Colors

Part 1: the Ecstasies

Unfiltered. Unashamed. True and brazen and certain. A knowing smile tugging at his lips. That was how Spock had spoken his truth. _Their_ truth.

Jim Kirk sat in his new quarters aboard the refitted _Enterprise_ and stared out into starry nothingness. In the aftermath of what everyone now called the ‘V’ger Crisis’, Jim felt… alive. More alive than he’d felt in two years. His right foot was frantically tapping the floor, and whatever he did he couldn’t seem to keep from fidgeting one way or another.

_This simple feeling…_

Slipping his hand through his hair, Jim pushed himself off his chair. Space – infinite, velvet black space, surrounding him; lying at his feet. The universe was his for the taking. He felt immortal.

He listened to the _Enterprise_ ’s humming as she made her way back to Earth. _To the Sol System, steady as she goes. We’re going home, people_.

But Jim already felt at home, here in this new, almost distorted version of his ship. No matter how different they’d made her, Jim would always recognize her. The _Enterprise_ wasn’t simply a bridge and a few sleeping quarters, she was a feeling. A loyal crew. A family. And they were all here. All of them. Even those he had thought were —

A beep sounded, interrupting Jim’s musings.  “Commander Uhura to Admiral Kirk.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“We’ll be arriving at spacedock in an hour, sir,” Uhura sounded overjoyed.

Jim smiled to himself. “Understood.”

“Uhura out.”

Jim breathed a quiet, nervous laugh. Alone in his quarters, he took a moment to absorb it. _One hour_. And then… and then what? He would have the _Enterprise_ , Starfleet had promised him that much. She just needed a few more repairs before she could do what she had been designed to do: explore. Five more years of exploration, Admiral Ngomo had whispered through the comm link. Only a rumor, but still… Jim had high hopes.

No, it wasn’t his career he was worried about.

 _This simple feeling_.

He had truly meant it. Jim knew, with every fiber of his being, that Spock had meant those words. A silent understanding had passed between them, a subtle nod, a slight tilt of the head, a gleam in deep brown eyes… Something had resurfaced at that moment. Just as their palms had touched, Jim had felt a spark; a flame that had been dormant for the past two years, and that burned now more fiercely than ever. 

So what was he supposed to do? Spock had been silent for the past few days. Not the tortured, punishing mutism he’d forced himself into when he had first arrived, but… he had been serene. Almost dreamy, like he lived in a constant haze. He’d been asked not to leave sickbay until Chapel could determine just how much the mind meld with V’ger had affected him.

Jim had waited. It had been difficult, but he’d waited.

One more hour. Only one hour left, and he was suddenly _nervous_. It had always been easy with Spock. As a first officer or as a friend, Spock had simply _made sense_. Why would this be any different?

Perhaps because Jim had loved Spock for so long. Because Jim had loved him in silence, had waited, had lost, had despaired. Because there was so much on the line.

 _This simple feeling_ …

But Spock had meant it. There was no doubt in Jim’s mind as he took a deep breath, gazing one last time out the observation window of his quarters. Spock had meant it.

Jim grinned, and the stars seemed to grin back at him.

His trepidation faded, transformed into something else entirely. Elation — he was positively ecstatic!

He all but ran out of his quarters, onto the bridge. He ordered the _Enterprise_ into spacedock, oversaw several disembarking procedures. It all flew past him, things happening faster than his mind could register, and it was an effort not to constantly smile.

Two hours passed before it was Jim’s turn to disembark. Two hours that had felt like mere minutes. “Kirk to sickbay.”

“McCoy here,” Bones said through the communicator. “Everyone else has already left the ship.”

Jim’s heart clenched in his chest. “Spock?”

He could’ve sworn he heard Bones’ muffled snicker on the other end. “Transported right down to Starfleet Headquarters.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim said.

And then he ran. He ran like his life depended on it. Into the turbolift; down a few decks; through the corridors; all the way to the transporter room, he ran. The _Enterprise_ was empty. The silence was punctuated by Jim’s echoing footsteps. Faster and faster, into the transporter room, “Starfleet Headquarters, Mister Kyle, energize,” and down he went.

 _Quickly, quickly, quickly_ , he kept saying to himself, over and over, like a prayer. The transporter whined, white light flashed, _quickly, quickly_ , it was taking forever, particle by particle he was plummeting down to Earth and he couldn’t plummet fast enough.

An eternity later, Jim was standing on a planet-bound transporter platform at Headquarters. Eyes darting across the room, he leaped off the platform and gave the supervising engineer a polite nod of greeting. He then rushed out into the hallway, sprinted to the turbolift and…

“HQ botanical gardens,” he ordered the lift, and immediately froze as the machine jerked into motion.

He had known… without a doubt, he had just _known_ that was the right way to go. Like a thread knotted around his chest and pulling him forward. _Quickly, quickly, quickly_. He needed to be there. Now.

Every breath, every thought, every step he took was for Spock. _This simple feeling…_ Spock loved him. Jim stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. He was still panting from his race through the _Enterprise_. Chest heaving, uniform tattered: he must’ve looked a mess, but he couldn’t care less. Elated, ecstatic, euphoric. He was ridiculous, but that didn’t matter.

Spock loved him. And Jim was going to find him. _I lost you once, I won’t lose you again_.

The turbolift doors swished open and Jim stumbled out into the botanical gardens. It was already dark over San Francisco, the bay glimmering in the distance, the city lights filtering between branches of various trees. It smelled like autumn and rain and new beginnings.

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Jim scanned the dimly lit gardens, looking for a trace, a clue, _anything_ —

“Jim.”

Deep and soft and peaceful — Spock’s voice, rippling through the darkness, flickering in the night like starlight, and Jim turned, and there he was…

Still wearing his light blue uniform. Hands sagging at his sides, not clasped behind his back. Mouth twitching upwards, not set in a tight line. Eyes gleaming with emotion, not tormented and fleeing in shame.

“Spock,” Jim’s voice almost broke on the syllable.

Suddenly, they were both walking towards each other, closing the distance between them. One step at a time, and Jim could’ve sworn that his every footfall echoed Spock’s. Closer and closer, until they were face to face, only an arm’s length apart.

They just stared into each other’s eyes, neither of them moving, neither of them speaking, and it was a fervid, breathless moment. Jim could barely even form a coherent thought. And when he finally managed to think, it was of those words, Spock’s words.

_This simply feeling…_

Oh, there were so many other words, stuck on the tip of his tongue, but none of them he dared utter. Everything was perfect just the way it was. The silence, the slumbering bay, the city behind them, Spock’s eyes, Spock’s uneven breathing, Spock’s hair ruffled by the wind…

Thunder roared above them. Jim didn’t spare a glance at the angry sky. He studied every line, every scar and ever crease in Spock’s beautiful face, memorizing them, loving them with a tenderness that overtook him. This was how he wanted to spend the rest of his days.

Spock’s mouth twitched open, as if trying to say something but failing. And then he inched closer, and Jim thought his heart would leap right out of his chest. In absolute silence, Spock reached out and offered his hand to Jim. Palm facing the sky, fingers slightly trembling.

Jim stared in awe at Spock’s hand, given so freely, again — again, like in sickbay, _this simple feeling_ …

And he took it. Wrapping his fingers around Spock’s hand, their palms rubbing against each other, Jim beamed up at his friend. Spock’s answering smile was like a secret. Like a gift. Like a miracle.

“We should take shelter,” were the first words Spock said, and they took Jim off-guard. He blinked.  Somehow it had started raining and he hadn’t noticed.

“Yes, you’re right,” he replied. Still smiling, both of them. Still ecstatic.

And then Jim was pulling Spock away from the gardens and towards the greenhouse, its great dome flecked with raindrops. Inside they would be safe and warm and dry, and they would talk, and all the words left unsaid would finally be out in the open. So Jim ran, pulling Spock behind him, their hands still linked, still clutching at each other.

The rain whipped at their faces, and the night was suddenly filled with noise: trees rustling, rain pitter-pattering, wind howling... Jim didn’t mind, as long as Spock’s hand was holding his.

They were now only a few feet away from the greenhouse, just a few more seconds and they’d be out of the rain…

And then Spock tugged on Jim’s arm, turned him around and pulled him close, all in one swift motion. Jim barely had time to understand what was happening before Spock's hands were around his waist and Spock’s mouth was brushing his.

A kiss, deep and soft and peaceful. Jim gave in instantly, closing his eyes and melting into Spock’s arms.  A single kiss, but it lasted forever.

Under Earth’s weeping sky they kissed again, a second kiss that lasted just as long. Lips parting, breaths mingling, hands trembling: they kissed a third time, and a fourth. Raindrops fell between them and soaked their uniforms, their hair, their faces. More and more raindrops, slipping onto their skin, sliding between their blending lips.

The world around them had ceased to exist. There was only Jim and Spock and their truth, their love.

A million ecstasies and more waiting ahead, from now on — _from now on, Spock, and until the day I die_. _It’s us now, it’s you and me. Out there or down here, I don’t mind either way. As long as I wake up next to you; a long as I can make you happy._

_~_

Part 2: The Broken Rules

Heart thumping, chest heaving, sweat trickling down his neck — Jim Kirk was stealing the _USS Enterprise_. It was ridiculously easy. Not the process itself; that had taken him and his crew quite a bit of effort and meticulous planning. No, what was surprising was the ease with which Jim _did_ it, the peacefulness of his conscious as the _Enterprise_ took off, quarter impulse power.

Of all the rules he’d broken in his life, this was undoubtedly the one he regretted the least.

If Starfleet wouldn’t give him a ship, he’d steal one. Simple and clear. There was no choice in the matter; he was either getting Spock back legally, or getting Spock back by breaking the rules.

 _I’ll bring you back, Spock_. Jim knew his husband was waiting for him — out there, on planet Genesis, alone and in who knows what condition. And he was going to get him back, out of the very claws of death if he needed to. Consequences be damned.

 _Don’t reply to the furious Admirals. Steady as she goes. Ignore them all. One minute to space doors? No problem_. This was child’s play, really, and none of it mattered, not one bit when compared to what Jim had to gain. To saving Spock.

“Calm yourself, Doctor,” Jim only half-turned to where Bones stood fidgeting by his side.

It did not matter, none of this did. They could threaten him all they wanted — he wouldn’t stop. And oh, they would be angry alright. They would likely throw him in the brig for a hundred years; or drop him in Klingon space with nothing but a phaser on him…

 _That is, if they can catch me_.

It wasn’t that he didn’t realize the risks: he simply did not care. Not when Spock’s life was on the line.

“The doors Mister Scott,” he pressed, not out of genuine fear, but rather out of impatience. _Quickly quickly quickly…_

The entire station was on yellow alert, glowing and beeping and trying to hold the _Enterprise_ in. But Jim was going to Genesis, whether Starfleet liked it or not. Thanks to Scotty, the doors were flung open, and across the bridge Chekov let out a sigh of relief.

Sulu switched to full impulse and they were out. Out of dry-dock, into the cold wilderness of space. _Here I come, Spock, I won’t leave you there alone_.

On the comm speakers, Captain Styles’ voice warned, “Kirk, you do this, you'll never sit in the Captain's chair again.”

 _Go to hell, you and your captaincy_.  

“Warp speed,” Jim ordered, and Sulu complied, and they were flying out of view, away from Earth, away from Starfleet and their rules…

The adrenaline, the rush of excitement and apprehension that Jim had expected were simply not there. Instead, there was only cool, remorseless determination.

_I’m coming, t’hy’la… I’m coming…_

_~_

Part 3: The Glorious Victories

The clouds disappeared; the sky cleared and light came back into the world. All at once, everything was back in its rightful place. _The probe must have received the message from the whales_!

Whale song, the most beautiful sound on Earth.

Jim Kirk punched a fist into the sky and bellowed his triumph. _Their_ triumph — his and his loyal crew’s. It was a small miracle, but the plan had worked. Everyone was screaming in pure joy, laughing and hugging each other, the sweetness of their victory washing away all exhaustion. Jim pointed at the whale plunging deeper into the water, its tail splashing that same water with a mighty smack.

The plan had worked! They had saved planet Earth!

Jim slapped the water with his palm and shouted some more. _We did it!_ And then he turned, and something in his chest broke and mended itself at the same time.

Spock was holding on to him. Holding onto his arm, grip firm but tender, fingers clenching and unclenching around his wrist, his hair plastered to his head with rain, and —

And he was smiling. Spock was smiling. He looked up, squinting at the sudden sunlight, and then looked back to Jim, _still smiling_.

Something rippled through the bond, and Jim started. Their bond, their mental bond! It had been quite silent ever since Genesis… but there it went again! Jim shot Spock a questioning look, but Spock simply smiled back, the expression so unfamiliar on his usually stern features.

 _Pull Dr. Gillian Taylor into the water_ , Spock’s voice filled Jim’s mind, as clearly as if he’d spoken the words aloud. Jim couldn’t help the hoarse laugh that escaped him.

 _Are you serious? Why?_ he shot down the bond, leaving other questions for later, careful not to break this perfect moment.

Spock shrugged. _It would be… fun_.

A prank! Jim’s heart was pounding. Spock hardly remembered to call him ‘Jim’ and not ‘Admiral’! They hadn’t shared a bed since… but that didn’t matter. Not now. All that mattered was the moment, their victory, Spock’s honest smile, and… _fun_.

So Jim turned to Gillian, offering his hand as if in felicitations. And surely enough, she took it, grinning at her new friend, until —

Jim yanked her off the sinking Klingon Bird-of-Prey and into the cold waters of San Francisco bay. With a joyful scream, she let herself fall in. Jim turned back to Spock, laughter on both their lips. They watched as the rest of the crew followed, pushing and pulling each other into the water. It felt like being seventeen again.

And then an idea crept into Jim’s mind.

“Pull me up, will you?” he told Spock, gesturing to the Klingon ship.

Ever so helpful, Spock complied, gently hoisting his bondmate up onto the small emergency ladder flanking the Bird-of-Prey. Trying – and failing – to hide a playful grin, Jim climbed up until he felt he was steady enough on his feet. Then he grabbed both Spock’s arms and attempted to push him off the ladder and into the water…

But Spock didn’t let go of him. His slender fingers remained firmly wrapped around Jim’s wrist, and his other hand slid to Jim’s shoulder, gripping him gently. _What are you doing?_ Jim asked through the bond, sending flickers of _amusement_ and _playfulness_ along with his words.

 _You must remain with me. If I go into the water, then you go as well_ , Spock’s surprisingly lengthy reply came, and suddenly the Vulcan was pushing against the Klingon ship, pushing them both down, down…

Jim replayed the words in his head. ‘You must remain with me’.

And as they hit the water, Spock’s mouth brushed his. Almost instinctively, Jim reached up and cupped his husband’s cheeks, pulling him closer. Spock did not object. Lips locked, they remained underwater for a few impossible seconds. And then Spock’s voice echoed in Jim’s mind. _I remember. I remember, t’hy’la_.

Jim’s heart almost popped right out of his chest.

Unfortunately, underwater kisses had the disadvantage of being short, mainly because of the lack of air. As they both breached the surface, breathless and flushed, Jim sent a wave of love and gratitude through the bond. Spock smiled again, reaching to place his hand on Jim’s arm.

 _We really did save the day, then_? Jim asked tentatively.

 _Yes_ , Spock answered.


	3. Cool Colors

Part 1: The Miseries

_Of all the miseries you’ve put me through, Spock, this is by far the worst._

_Even as I watch you leave me, I can’t really believe it. What have you done? What have you done… You don’t look like yourself. Crouching in front of the glass, your own blood caked on your face, on your neck… and I’m screaming inside, but my voice breaks whenever I open my mouth to speak. What have you done? How dare you leave me?_

_I don’t understand the anger in me. The part of me that keeps blaming you. How selfish I am, to resent you even now that all is over. But then you were selfish as well, throwing yourself into death’s arms, knowing I would suffer, knowing it would kill me too._

_If only it had._

_I’m stuck here without you. You don’t care now, but I’m the one who must go on. I’m the one who must wake up every morning to an empty bed. All your clothes are still in your quarters, all your words are still in my head. Your book is on my nightstand. But you’re gone. How dare you leave me?_

_I remember the time I reached out to you, hopeful and expectant, only to have you shut me out. Until now, that was the deepest cut, the most harm you’d ever done. It was years ago, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime. I hadn’t seen you for two years. God, those two miserable years. And then they gave me the_ Enterprise _back, but it only mended half of me. The other half was still broken. The other half still wanted you, nothing and no one but you._

 _I wonder if you ever think of it —_ thought _of it. Did you remember sometimes, did you remember that day when you walked back onto our ship, our home; when you came back to your crew, your family...  and how you scorned it all? Not even a word of greeting. You just walked onto the bridge as if it hadn’t been two goddamned years. You just stood there, beautiful and oh so cruel, and I called your name and it was like the world was ending in your eyes. I remember feeling a thousand different things at the same time. I thought I was going mad. You were there, you were finally with me again, but you were cold and foreign._

_You just stood there, so beautiful and so cruel, and I understood nothing but that rejection. Like taking a blow to my face._

_But even back then I hadn’t been angry. Maybe I should have. Maybe that would have stopped you from doing what you did today. From leaving me. If only you knew what kind of scars your absence carves into me._

_I’m weak, Spock. I’ve never felt this weak before. You were my greatest strength, and now you left me. And my anger is fading, and once it’s gone I’ll have nothing else to hold onto. I’m scared, Spock. I don’t think I know where to go from here. What can I possibly do? Even breathing is a constant effort._

_What have you done…_

_You’ve broken my heart before, but nothing compares to this. Spock, oh Spock, there had to be another way…_

_I can feel the darkness closing in on me as I start realizing you’re gone for good. Where are you now, I wonder? The stars suddenly look so far away._

_The glass is cold against my back. Your body must be colder. Everyone is talking around me, but I can’t hear a thing. Everything is a blur._

_‘Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.’ Was it Euripides?_

_I’m confused. I don’t think I feel anything anymore, not anguish nor pain, just… emptiness._

_Of all the miseries you’ve put me through, Spock, dying on me is by far the worst._

_~_

Part 2: The Desperate Chances

Spock walked onto the bridge, McCoy following him, muttering and cursing.

“Please get a grip on yourself, Doctor,” was Spock’s only response. He could feel the emotion swelling up in him, from his boots all the way up to his ears. He was a mess, a total and complete mess, but he wasn’t about to let it show — or let anyone else, especially doctor McCoy, succumb to it. He needed everyone to be rational, poised, ready to…

Spock glanced around the bridge. Half the crew was injured, and those who weren’t seemed stunned: perhaps another effect of Sybok’s telepathy. So be it. He was alone, facing the threat of the Klingon ship… and the danger of losing Jim.

That thought was enough to make him panic for a nanosecond. _A nanosecond too long_. He needed to be _ready_ , he needed to be _Vulcan_. So when the Klingon captain’s face appeared on the viewscreen, Spock tilted his chin upwards and locked his hands behind his back.

“It is Captain Klaa, from the Klingon Empire. Attempt to raise shields or arm weapons and I will destroy you. You are alive for a single reason: the renegade James T. Kirk.”

Spock bristled at the beloved name. Hearing it on this hateful Klingon’s lips, seeing the contempt in his eyes as he spoke about Spock’s bondmate… an ancient fury boiled beneath his skin. His green blood, the blood of his ancestors, who fought and killed to protect their mates…

But no. Now was not the time. Violence was not an option, and it never would be. Because although Spock knew his love for Jim could split Sha Ka Ree in half, he would never use it for destruction. Was he capable of throwing himself and his crew into the Klingon’s open jaws to retrieve Jim? Of course. But he would not.

He was half-human, half-Vulcan. Both parts of him loved Jim equally, but only one part of him was now allowed to speak.

“Captain Kirk is not among us,” Spock’s voice was as calm and composed as ever.

Captain Klaa sneered. “You lie!”

Spock’s brows lifted in pure Vulcan disdain. “I am a Vulcan, I am incapable of lying.” He waited, observing the Klingon’s reaction. Then he continued, “Captain Kirk is on the planet bellow.”

Another threatening snarl. “Then give me his coordinates!”

No. That was unacceptable. Spock’s mind rebelled at the impossible situation, words and thoughts and plans swirling about in it. _I do not believe in a no-win scenario_.

Vulcan mind, rummaging through ideas until the most logical one appeared. It took him two point six seconds to find it. It was so simple; why did he not think of it sooner?

Walking towards General Korrd, Spock tried a diplomatic approach. “General, I am in need your assistance,” he whispered gently as he neared the old Klingon.

Korrd looked stupefied. “ _My_ assistance?”

Spock was growing impatient. All this time wasted discussing things when Jim was down there, in danger…

“You are his superior officer,” Spock explained, trying to sound patient.

Korrd waved the suggestion away. “I am a foolish old man.”

 _No, no you do not get to choose whether or not you help us_. Spock’s brows furrowed, green heat splashing across his cheeks. It was Jim’s life on the line. It was Jim’s life they were trying to save. Jim’s boyish smile, Jim’s hazel eyes, Jim’s fantastic ideas, Jim’s body, Jim’s mind, Jim’s _soul_. And again that ancient fury pushed against Spock’s Vulcan training. His human part screamed as well; _that is my bondmate, down there_.

To hell with logic. To hell with acting composed and calm. A storm was swirling inside of him and Spock was going to unleash it on the world if General Korrd refused to help.

So, with a passion that left him panting, Spock said, “Damn you, sir. You _will_ try.”

~

Part 3: The Glorious Failures

“We’re lost.”

“And drunk.”

“And way too old to be lost and drunk in the middle of the night.”

Facts: it was past three in the morning, Spock and Jim were lost on a foreign planet, and they were both drunk. They were also revered Starfleet veterans, Vulcan’s ambassador to Earth and current head of Starfleet Academy’s command department. They clearly shouldn’t be stumbling through Deneb IV’s greatest city, reeking of chocolate and alcohol.

Jim shrugged. “S’not that bad, is it? Someone’ll eventually find us and take us home…” he placed one foot in front of the other and stopped, trying to stand upright. “Won’t they?”

Spock shrugged too; an unusual gesture for the Vulcan. “I do not know. Perhaps we will simply wander on endlessly.”

Jim giggled and resumed his slow trudge. “Why not? That actually sounds like a good idea. You and me under the stars, and the night is lovely, really. Did you feel that breeze?” He threw his hands up and looked at the sky, the clear, purple alien sky. The constellations were so different here.

“Jim,” Spock’s voice was husky, low and trembling.

Jim bit his lower lip. “Yes, Spock?”

Spock swayed on his feet as he drew closer to his husband, bumping their shoulders together. The night was quiet in this sector of the city: they were walking through a series of gardens, with exotic plants blooming on either side of the small path they took.

The pair had been invited to a conference here on Deneb IV, and the celebration afterwards had been particularly fun. Their host was one of Deneb’s most admirable scientists, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t party. It had been so good, in fact, that Jim and Spock had indulged in alcohol and Denebian chocolates — and there had been a heated debate as to whether they were superior to their galaxy-famous Delavian counterparts.

Getting drunk would’ve been fine, if they hadn’t insisted on walking back to their hotel. The couple _loved_ walking, especially walking together. Especially on beautiful foreign planets. And they were simply too stubborn to admit they needed help. So they walked on, enjoying the planet and each other’s company.

There was a small pond to their left, and in front of it was a stunning backless marble bench with alien designs carved into its legs, its surface smooth and gleaming. Spock placed his hand on the small of Jim’s back and steered him towards the bench.

“Spock?” Jim asked again, letting his husband guide him.

There was a moment of stillness before Spock whispered hoarsely, “I desire you.”

Jim’s toes curled in his boots. “Right now?” he breathed, laughing lightly – but his heart was pounding in his chest.

Spock’s eyelids fluttered, and a low moan escaped him. “Yes, here and now.”

Jim did not ask twice. Throwing himself at his husband with reckless abandon, he kissed him fiercely, tugging at his Vulcan robes. Spock returned the kiss with equal passion, biting and licking and nipping teasingly. Before long they were both panting, placing sloppy kisses onto each other’s mouths and necks, swaying slightly with each tug at each other’s clothes.

When they were both shirtless, Spock gently pushed Jim back onto the bench. Taking a step backwards, he clumsily undid his loose Vulcan trousers, letting them fall to the ground and pool at his ankles. Jim bit his lip and watched with growing lust as his bondmate stripped for him.

“C’m here,” Jim purred, reaching out to run his hands over Spock’s thighs.

Spock straddled Jim’s lap, kissing him again. Jim’s hand reached between them, touching and caressing and making Spock moan out loud.

Perhaps it was all too much; perhaps they were both too excited, too eager. Perhaps the drunken attempt at getting rid of Jim’s pants would’ve worked better if they hadn’t been sitting on that backless bench. Or perhaps they were just two intoxicated fools in love, too old to be lost in the middle of the night.

Facts: Jim and Spock fell backwards, stumbling into the freezing pond behind the bench. They both gasped as they hit the water, and heat became ice as they emerged, soaked from head to toe. Shocked, confused – they stared at each other for a few moments, trembling and hugging their naked torsos. Then came the laughter, pure and true and uncensored. They kept staring at each other, shaking not with cold, but with amusement.

Jim howled with laughter, tears filling his eyes as he gasped for breath, holding his stomach. Spock huffed out a chuckle, then two, then began laughing in earnest, his ears turning deep green.

“I can’t – I can’t believe… that just happened…” Jim panted out the words, laughing so hard he was barely able to stand upright.

“We certainly cannot call for help now,” Spock added, the laughter in his voice unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Jim hilarity became even louder at that. “No, we can’t,” he managed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Eventually, they retrieved their clothes – most of them mercifully dry – and found a way back home. The laughter continued, however, even as they made love in their warm, dry bed a few hours later.  


	4. Epilogue: the Word "Love"

Spock opens his eyes. He is still in their old room, still lying on their once shared-bed. The pendent is closed in front of him. He slips it into his pocket.

His dreams are always a kaleidoscope of memories these days.

Jim and Spock, Spock and Jim – reverse shot through time.

And maybe he has lived his sunset years alone, but Spock knows Jim is somewhere, out there, watching over him. Now that he thinks about his life, he feels an odd sort of pride. He has done a great many things, but there is only one that truly matters…

Falling in love with Jim Kirk.  The best thing Spock has ever done.

He smiles, an old Vulcan too wise to deny himself this private display of emotion. It is time to leave now. Time to go back to the world.

Spock pushes himself off the bed with a grunt. He takes the holographic picture with him as he walks toward the door.

But when he turns around to look at the room one last time… he feels it. A quiver, a slight trembling in the corner of his mind. He dismisses it, but it happens again. Frowning, Spock closes his eyes.

A very faint tremor, but it is definitely there. Spock pushes his thoughts toward it. As he nears it, the quiver of movement starts rippling through him… and he nearly loses his balance when he understands where it is coming from.

It is light and life and joy and love. All of it pouring down the bond.

Spock is suddenly shaking. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he speaks through the mental bond, not daring to believe it. _Jim?_

And through years and years of void and emptiness, a familiar voice pierces the darkness.

 _I’m here, Spock_.


End file.
